Seventeen

It was immediately apparent to Harriet and Anne that something had gone wrong. The atmosphere in the music room, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, was suddenly tense. Jason insisted that they take their leave. Despite Harriet’s whispered admonition that a leave-taking so soon after dinner was too abrupt, he herded them to the Prince to say their good-byes. When they made their adieus and murmured their appreciative thanks for the evening’s entertainment, the Regent’s coldness was unmistakable in the stiffness of his acknowledgment. And when they passed out of the room, the other gentlemen, speaking in low voices to their wives, seemed to avoid meeting their eyes. It was all bewildering and dreadful.

In the carriage, Jason was irritatingly unconcerned. He merely explained that he’d done what Anne had always warned him against—talked too much. Then he leaned back against the squabs and tried to change the subject. But the ladies persisted in their questioning until they eventually drew from him a somewhat clearer account of what had transpired. When the full import of what he’d done burst upon them, Harriet moaned and clutched her breast. “Oh, heavens, we are undone!” she uttered.

“Do you mean to say,” Anne asked, horrified, “that you made disparaging comments about the British Navy? Good God! Have you never heard of our defeat of the Armada? Have you never heard of Trafalgar!”

“I believe word of those encounters has reached America,” Jason responded satirically, “but you should have warned me, ma’am, that the British Navy is so sacred. It seems that I’ve blasphemed.

“There, do you see!” Anne exploded, turning to her stepmother. “I told you that he makes a joke of everything!”

“We must remain calm,” Harriet murmured without conviction.

“The man’s impossible,” Anne said disgustedly.

“I think, Jason,” Harriet said worriedly, “that Anne is in the right this time. This is no laughing matter, you know. He is the Regent. I very much fear that we shall live to regret this night.”

Harriet’s fears were more than justified. The door knocker of the Mainwaring house became distressingly unused. The number of callers dropped markedly; the flow of invitations almost ceased entirely (and those that did come were not the kind that Harriet wished Jason to accept); the gentlemen who had fawned on Jason at White’s were now quite cool; even the eager mamas, who had once pushed their daughters into Jason’s path, were suddenly hesitant. Overnight, Jason’s life altered.

The entire household became depressed. Orkle remarked in confidence to Coyne that he very much feared his lordship’s evening clothes “was goin’ to moulder wi’ lack o’ use.” It had been exciting even to the servants to find Mainwaring House the center of a social whirl. Now the inactivity and gloom were doubly discouraging because of the comparison with the previous exhilaration. Everyone, from Lady Harriet to the lowliest scullery maid, was affected. Only Jason seemed unperturbed. He rode in the park every day, as usual, played chess and took his weekly trips to Jackson’s Saloon with Peter, and maintained his accustomed air of untroubled amiability.

In addition to the members of the household, there were two others who remained loyal to the ostracized Viscount. One was Cherry, who followed Anne’s lead in almost everything and who therefore spoke up loyally in Jason’s defense whenever anyone mentioned his name in her presence. Cherry had been having a difficult time since she’d cut her hair. It was not that her new appearance was in any way detrimental to her social success—on the contrary, her daring new coiffure was much admired and had won her the attentions of two new swains. One was a pudgy-cheeked youth who spoke with a stammer and followed her around like a devoted puppy whenever she sojourned on foot through the park. The other was more impressive—none other than Captain Edward Wray, the cavalry officer who’d been Alexandra de Guis’ escort that day in the park. Captain Wray, tired of the high-handed indifference he’d received from Lexie, had turned his eyes to Cherry.

With a persistence that should have been as flattering as it was unexpected, Captain Wray, who was on protracted leave from his regiment while he recovered from a wound he’d received in Spain, spent a good part of his free time in Cherry’s company. Tired of the spirited but superficial flirtation he’d endured with Lexie, he found Cherry pretty, sweet and comforting. The sympathetic attention with which she listened to his accounts of his military adventures was alone enough to make him her devoted admirer.

But Cherry’s attentiveness to Captain Wray’s monologs came more from habit than from her heart. Inside, her feelings were focused elsewhere. For her part, the relationship with Edward Wray had only one thing to recommend it—it helped to keep her mind from dwelling on the events of a certain rainy night, the memory of which filled her with longing and guilt but which she nevertheless could not resist reliving over and over again in her dreams.

The other person who remained loyal to Jason was Lexie herself. It was Cherry who discovered Lord Mainwaring’s continued relationship with Lexie and reported it to Anne. “Captain Wray had taken me up in his curricle, and we were tooling about the park when I saw them,” she related. “They were both on horseback, and they were laughing and talking together in a manner which …” Cherry hesitated, trying to find the right words to describe the comfortable intimacy of their demeanor.

“… which is only developed when two people are much in each other’s company, is that what you’re trying to say?” Anne asked shrewdly.

“Yes, that’s it, exactly. I must tell you, Anne, that they were very much absorbed in each other and seemed completely unaware of the number of gossips who were watching and whispering behind their fans.”

Anne listened to Cherry’s report with increasing vexation. Jason seemed to be determined to behave in a manner deliberately designed to discompose her spirits. Wasn’t he aware that he’d done enough harm to himself and the family by offending the Regent without adding to society’s disapprobation by attaching himself to a female whose reputation was no better than it should be? Every time she reviewed Cherry’s words, she found herself fuming. She was in a terrible mood, and it was all Jason’s fault.

Lying awake at night, she asked herself why Jason’s problems should affect her so deeply. Even Harriet, who had learned to hold Jason in the highest regard, seemed less affected by his ostracism than she. Harriet had simply cautioned herself to remain calm, had done her breathing exercises and had managed to maintain her serenity. But Anne was somehow deeply disturbed, and Jason’s indifference to his situation and his involvement with Lexie made that disturbance even more acute. She began to speak shortly to the family and the servants, her temper flared easily and even her sleep was restless and troubled by disturbing dreams.

The future for the Mainwarings and the Hartleys seemed to her to be very glum indeed. If Jason remained ostracized, the effect would be felt by Lady Harriet and Peter as well. They, too, would be subject to social disapproval and neglect. And it was only logical to assume that, if Jason continued to be ignored by the matchmaking mamas of eligible young ladies, the likelihood of his making an offer to Lexie would become more certain. Poor Mama and Peter would be forced to live in the Mainwaring house under Lexie’s dominion—a fate which was beginning to seem an imminent and horrible possibility.

The fact that Anne would be far away from the scene by the time this repugnant possibility should become an actuality was of no comfort at all. Although she tried to tell herself that all this was not really her affair, and that she would soon be living in Shropshire, completely out of touch with and uninformed about the goings-on at home, the thought only seemed to exacerbate her tensions. Could she possibly permit herself to run away, callously leaving behind all familial feelings? Could she embark on a new life, knowing that the family she’d left behind was enmeshed in a coil of problems? Had she no responsibility for their happiness and well-being?

The date of her elopement loomed very near. In just over a week, she would be starting for Gretna Green. If only she could do something to reestablish Jason in society before she left. But the dark hours of the night offered no inspiration, and she eventually fell asleep without having found a practical solution to the problem.

She awoke the next morning heavy-eyed and depressed. Pulling aside the curtains, she discovered that the weather exactly matched her mood. The sky was gray and lowering, and a distant rumble promised the coming of a storm. As if to spite herself, she dressed in a drab, puce-colored muslin round-gown (which she absolutely detested) and made her way to the breakfast room. There she found Jason seated at the table cheerfully sipping a cup of coffee and reading his newspapers. She sat down without speaking a word and reached for the teapot.

“Good morning, my dear,” Jason greeted her with a smile.

She looked at his newspapers in annoyance. “Haven’t you had enough troublesome news from America? Or are you searching for new material with which to offend your friends?” she asked maliciously.

Jason laughed. “Oh, I’m quite capable of inventin’ offensive comments without referrin’ to my newspapers at all. For example, I might remark that you are not in your best looks this morning.”

She glared at him. “Offensive is quite right. It wanted only that, my lord, to make my morning complete. If you will be good enough to pass me the jam, I shall refrain from speaking to you further.”

“But I have no wish for you to refrain from speaking,” he said, grinning and handing her the jam pot. “I enjoy listenin’ to you, even when you’re churlish.”

She did not deign to respond but stirred her tea in silence. With a shrug, he returned to his newspaper. But after a silence of several minutes, during which the only sounds were the rattle of his newspaper and the clink of her spoon against the cup, she could endure it no longer. “I wonder, my lord,” she ventured, “how you can be so cheerful and unconcerned when your position in society has been so seriously injured.”

“But I’ve told you before,” he explained, putting aside his paper readily, “that I don’t care a fig for my position in society.”

She leaned her chin on her hand and surveyed him wonderingly. “Yes, so you have, but I can’t quite believe you. You are not a fool—you must realize that the rest of your life will be adversely affected.”

“My life does not depend on the good will of the ton, my dear,” he declared firmly.

“But, Jason, it must,” she said, leaning forward and speaking with an intensity and sincerity she had not shown since their estrangement. “In your position as a peer of the realm, you must live your life among us. Didn’t you enjoy the attentions of society before, when they made so much of you?”

“Yes, I suppose I did. But I knew it was only a temporary phenomenon. I didn’t take it seriously. Just as I don’t take its loss very seriously either.”

“Temporary phenomenon? Why did you assume their good will was only temporary?” Anne asked.

“It was not their good will I assumed to be temporary, but my stay among them. You see, I never intended—and don’t intend now—to remain here in London.”

“I don’t understand. Do you mean you intend to spend your days buried away on our estate in Derbyshire, as Uncle Osborn did?”

He gave her a strange look. “No, my dear. I shan’t be going to Derbyshire. I shall be going home,” he said with a small, rather patient smile.

“Home?” She stared at him incredulously. “You can’t mean … America!”

He gave a wry laugh. “I’m constantly amazed, my dear, at your persistent tendency to regard the place of my birth as some sort of untamed, indigent backwater from which one would wish only to escape.”

There was something in his tone that made her peer at him closely. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Jason,” she said quickly. “I honor you for feeling an attachment to the place of your birth. And I shall have to admit,” she added, lowering her eyes to her cup, “that you’ve quite convinced me that your country is adequately civilized …”

“Thank you for that,” he said with a half-smile. “But—?”

She flicked a quick glance at him and nodded. “Yes, there is a but.”

“I was sure there would be.” He made a mocking gesture, as if bracing himself for an attack. “Go ahead.”

“Don’t joke, Jason. I’m quite serious. I only want to say that … to be a peer of England, and especially in this time of our history … why, that is the most fortunate position to hold in all the world! You cannot expect me to take seriously the notion that you would give it all up and return to America!”

“I can’t seem to make you take anything I say seriously.” He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “I wish …” He paused and fixed his eyes on her hand, its fingers lying relaxed and unresisting in his large palm.

“What do you wish?” she prodded encouragingly.

His hand closed over hers. “… that one day I might be able to show you my home,” he said softly.

The sincerity of his tone caught her unaware. Her throat tightened unaccountably. “I would like to, very much,” she answered. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m not much good at describin’ things with words,” he said, lifting his eyes to her face. “It’s somethin’ you have to see for yourself. America is so vast, you know, that when you travel from north to south it’s like travelin’ from one world to another. New England is mountainous and craggy, with violent changes in weather and a kind of harsh, strong face. But where I come from, in Virginia, it’s all soft and green, with rollin’ hills and blue-shadowed mountains and wispy mornin’ fog. The changes of the seasons kind of sneak up on you. One mornin’ you look around and all the colors of spring have burst out—the white dogwood’s in bloom all through the woods, and the azaleas have gone crazy. Or it turns autumn, and suddenly the trees look like they’re goin’ up in flames. One time, I remember, I’d been trekkin’ through the Shenandoahs, and I’d slept in the forest. Durin’ the night, there’d been a touch of frost. When I woke, there were the pines with drops of ice hangin’ from every needle—it looked like the forest had grown a beard!”

“It sounds … very beautiful …”

“It is very beautiful.”

She sighed. “But England is beautiful, too, you know,” she suggested gently.

“I don’t deny that, my dear.”

“Don’t you see, Jason, what’s troubling you? You’ve come all this way, from a land that you obviously love, to find yourself pushed and coaxed and prodded and coerced into taking on the role of an English nobleman. And just when you’d finally convinced us—yes, I’m willing at last to admit it—that you could be perfectly acceptable just the way you are, you are suddenly and heartlessly ostracized! No wonder you want to chuck it all away. But you’re only homesick! It’s perfectly understandable under the circumstances, but I assure you it will pass.”

“Anne, when will you ever listen, to me?” he asked rather plaintively. “This ostracism has nothing whatever to do with how I feel.”

“That’s what you think now. But just you wait.” Withdrawing her hand from his clasp, she rose and went to stand behind his chair, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll find a way to end this situation in which you find yourself. And when I do, you’ll feel quite differently.”

He let out a long, discouraged breath. “Don’t trouble yourself, girl,” he said shortly. “Nothin’ you do in that direction is likely to cause me to change my mind.”

“We’ll see about that,” she answered airily and went to the door. But before leaving, she paused and looked back at him curiously. “Did you mean to suggest by your last remark that there is some other direction I could take which would cause you to change your mind?”

“Well, I doubt if anything you did could really change my mind about leavin’, but there is somethin’ that might make me postpone my departure for a bit.”

“And what would that be?” she inquired archly.

He turned in his chair and regarded her speculatively. “Can’t you guess, ma’am?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she responded decisively and was immediately disconcerted by feeling a rush of blood to her cheeks. What was there in the expression of his eyes that caused her color to rise?

His light-colored eyes seemed to penetrate her thoughts, and his lips curled in a mocking smile. “If you really don’t know, it won’t do for me to tell you, girl. At least, not yet,” he said. And he turned, picked up his newspaper and resumed his reading.

She stood in the doorway watching him for a moment, but he didn’t look up. Finally, with an exasperated sniff, she left him alone.